


And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest

by xiamer



Series: Those who do not weep, do not see [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, again the e/R is kinda there kinda not, also, but yeah, happier (?) ending, it feels wrong to tag Enjolras since hes, itll be happier than its been, let’s call it mutual pining that they never got past, y’know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiamer/pseuds/xiamer
Summary: Combeferre and Courfeyrac come to terms with the Earth shattering reality of their situation and must inform the rest of Les Amis de l’ABCTitle is from Horatio’s last lines to Hamlet in Act V scene iiAgain, I’d suggest reading the first two in the series before this one
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Les Amis de l'ABC Friendship, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Those who do not weep, do not see [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803691
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> part iii !!
> 
> it’s in two chapters, and if you’re one of perhaps 2 people who see this before the second chapter goes up, hey ! 
> 
> i can’t believe it took me 5 fics in the les mis fandom to mention hamlet
> 
> since im new here, im letting you all know that i am beyond in love w the play hamlet and i would DIE for horatio 
> 
> i hope you enjoy !

Combeferre had his head in his hands by the time Courfeyrac found him. He lightly tapped his boyfriend’s shoulder, causing Combeferre to look up at him through red rimmed and still glistening eyes. 

“Ferre? Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Courfeyrac sat down on the bench beside Combeferre. He maneuvered the taller man into a position where he could be hugging him. Combeferre let out a small, choked sob. 

“It’s… it’s… I can’t do this Courf!”

“Hey, hey,” Courfeyrac rubs soothing circles into Combeferre’s shoulder, “what can’t you do?”

Combeferre sniffles miserably. 

“I can’t keep going.”

Courfeyrac tries not to jerk away in alarm, but mostly fails. He’s trying not to panic over his interpretation of Combeferre’s words. Combeferre must realise something and begins to explain. 

“It’s— I’m not, suicidal or anything but it’s just— how do I keep going? We supported each other in a way that I can never get from anyone else, not even you.”

“Is this about Enjolras?”

It obviously is, if Combeferre’s next reaction is anything to go by. 

He bursts into tears again and sobs into Courfeyrac’s shoulder. Courfeyrac, by this point, is extremely confused. They had a fight last night, and though the two of them had never fought, this doesn’t seem like a normal reaction. It doesn’t seem normal to act like someone’s died the day after you fight with them. 

Wait. 

Combeferre had left a note that morning explaining where he was; explaining why he was now curled up on a bench only a short distance from the police station. 

What had the note said?

_ Hey Courf, I got a weird call from Javert; asked me to come down to the station. Just wanted to let you know where I was. _

_ Be back soon  _

_ -C _

A call from Javert, sobbing over the mention of Enjolras… 

No. 

That couldn’t be it. 

“Hey Ferre, could you tell me what happened? I’m not sure, but I have a theory, could you clarify?”

Combeferre shifted up, whispered a small, “yes”, and then began. 

“So you know how we got all those calls from En- En-  _ him _ last night?” 

Courfeyrac nodded, and Combeferre continued.

“So we had that really weird one where he called me, and then just sort of stopped talking and we just hung up on him. Well, this morning I get a call from Javert that he wants me at the station, but he won’t say it over the phone. I get there, and he leads me to the backroom of the police station, and do you know what’s back there?”

Courfeyrac doesn’t know if it’s a rhetorical question, but he still shakes his head. 

“Well, they have a morgue back there, that’s what. And so Javert— he tells me that I need to— to—“

It seems like Combeferre can’t continue on from that point, but Courfeyrac starts to piece everything together in his head. 

They had gotten a strange call from Enjolras last night, they hadn’t heard from him after, Javert had Combeferre go to a morgue to do something. 

Everything snapped into its horrific place. 

“No,” breathed Courfeyrac, “he can’t.”

Combeferre nodded through the tears. 

“He is. I had to verify, and there— there’s no way he could have survived what had happened to him.”

“What happened?”

“Javert is still working on when and what exactly occurred, but by the end, Enjolras d-died with a large laceration across his stomach. It basically ran from the bottom of his right floating ribs to his pelvis on the left.”

“Oh mon dieu…”

Suddenly, both Combeferre and Courfeyrac were sobbing, not even caring that they were in public at that point. Someone had shattered their triangle, taking one of the sides so that they could no longer stand. The triangle was the strongest shape in engineering, but only when it has all three sides. 

Someone had just murdered a member of their triumvirate. 

They always knew that they were co-dependant. Hell, everyone in their group was. And everyone knew that being so inseparable was going to have consequences.

No one could have predicted this. 

Courfeyrac had joked that Enjolras would die for his cause. He’d either go down at a riot, or he’d die once everything he wanted had been accomplished. 

Courfeyrac had never expected for anything like this to happen. They had joked over Enjolras’ death whilst the man himself would just scowl in the corner, and mutter something about the spirit of justice being immortal. They had  _ joked _ , but no one had ever prepared for it. Why would they? They were all young and young people don’t die. 

“When you’re in a garden, which flowers do you pick?”

Courfeyrac said it so quietly, he wasn’t sure which one of them it was for. But Combeferre picked his head up and gave a rueful smile. 

“The best ones.”

Courfeyrac embraced his boyfriend as though the world was crumbling around them. 

And it sure as hell felt like it was. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so im not sure if i should add on after this ? ill leave the series as unfinished for now, but let me know what you think ?
> 
> but there’s a happier ending to this one !
> 
> also grantaire is definitely ooc for the little bit that he showed up for, but that’s because he would immediately just try to kill himself or something, but i don’t want that

When they had the courage to move again, they began to walk towards the Café Musain. Combeferre had sent out a text that confirmed that everyone could meet there at noon, including Grantaire who arrived home right before them. It was currently 10h50. They had a little over an hour, but Combeferre and Courfeyrac wanted to make sure that they were actually prepared. 

They walked in and greeted the barista who was working, and ordered their drinks. After doing so, they found a table in the back and sat across from each other. 

“God Courf, what do we DO?”

Courfeyrac gently took one of Combeferre’s hands in his own. 

“Shh, just breathe for a second, Ferre. We’re going to get our drinks and then we’re going to plan, alright?”

Combeferre gave a small nod, and it was at that moment that the barista brought over their drinks. 

One was a lemon tea with honey, for Combeferre. One was a latte made with cinnamon, for Courfeyrac. 

Both men stared at the third drink as the barista walked away. 

They had ordered a black coffee with extra espresso shots in it. Extra espresso shots that Combeferre had always discouraged.

  
  


_“Your heart’s going to stop one of these days, I swear.”_

_Enjolras waved off his concern with his hand._

_“Oh come on Ferre, you sound like Joly. I’m perfectly fine handling some caffeine.”_

_Combeferre huffed and turned back to his laptop, and Enjolras smirked victoriously._

Black coffee that Courfeyrac had always found to be disgusting. 

  
  


_“Mon DIEU Enj, that smells like death!”_

_“Oh calm down Courf, it’s just black coffee.”_

_Courfeyrac wrinkled his nose._

_“It’s disgusting is what it is. Why don’t you order cinnamon or chocolate drinks like a normal gay person.”_

_Enjolras simply sipped at his coffee._

_“Maybe I enjoy watching you so disgruntled.”_

_Courfeyrac wrinkled his nose again and jumped across the table at Enjolras, who yelped and leaned away._

  
  


“I— we ordered that, didn't we.”

Combeferre sighed in réponse and turned his face towards the table. 

“That we did,” he replied miserably, picking at the varnish on the wood. 

Courfeyrac checked the time. 

11h01. 

They still had another hour until everyone got there. 

“So… what do we say?”

Combeferre looked up, mildly startled, before shifting back into an expression of total despair. 

“I think that we need to just lead in with it. No use in delaying it.”

Courfeyrac nodded. It would hurt their friends at first, but they couldn’t leave them wondering. 

The next hour passed in relative silence, but the coffee sat on the corner of the table, almost as if it was placed there to torture them. 

By 11h50, Combeferre and `Courfeyrac had made their way to the backroom and waited for everyone to arrive. 

First came Feuilly, straight from work, with Bahorel close on his tail. Then, Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta strolled in, followed almost immediately by Jehan. Éponine, Cosette, and Marius came soon after. The last to arrive, as usual, was Grantaire.

Grantaire, who never seemed to notice anything, immediately had noticed the lack of Enjolras in the room. He turned towards Combeferre and Courfeyrac and raised a brow. Neither could meet his eye. 

Before Grantaire could say anything however, Combeferre cleared his throat and rapped on the table that Enjolras always stood at. He took a deep breath and chanced a look at Courfeyrac, who was trying to be encouraging for his sake. Combeferre exhaled and turned to face their friends. 

“So, I’m sure all of you remember what happened last night. I want to just say that that was the first actual _fight_ that I have ever had with Enjolras. After 18 years of friendship, that just was not the type of thing that we would do. I want to apologise for that, and for making you witness that.”

He broke off and looked down, trying to regulate his breathing. Grantaire spoke up, slowly, from the back. 

“I’m assuming that’s not all. You seem really upset Ferre, what else happened?”

Another deep breath in, and out, and Combeferre continued. 

“You’re right, Grantaire, that’s definitely not all. Last night, a few of you got calls from Enjolras. I believe it was Feuilly, Jehan and Joly?” The mentioned amis nodded, and Combeferre continued, “so we had gotten some calls as well. Over the entire course of the night, Courfeyrac had gotten 4 calls. We were angry with him, so we let them ring, but we did listen to the voicemails. The voice—“

Combeferre broke off and turned to Courfeyrac, suddenly horrified. 

“Oh god Courf. That voicemail where he paused in the middle? What if that was when he saw whoever it was?”

“Whoever it was that did what?” Piped up Joly from the front. 

Courfeyrac sat Combeferre down, and picked up where he had left off. 

“I’ll get to your question in a second, Joly. But we had gotten 4 calls from him to me, and the last call that he made last night was to Combeferre. That one we actually picked up. We were definitely too obscured by the anger during that call, because the entire time he sounded…off. But neither of us commented on it. Eventually he just stopped talking, after making really bizarre comments and apologising. It was some time really early in the morning—“

“1h03,” interrupted Combeferre. 

“Yes, at 1h03,” Courfeyrac swallowed and looked around the room. Everyone looked mostly confused, but Grantaire had réalisation slowly dawning on his face. 

“You can’t be saying he’s—?”

Courfeyrac looked down at the table he was standing at. When he next spoke, it was little more than a whisper. 

“He is. Combeferre was called to the station early this morning. They don’t know time of death or who did it, but there was a large gash going across his stomach, definitely from a knife of some sort. Javert said he’d be in contact soon.”

Courfeyrac was crying by the end, but he couldn’t wipe the tears away. He glanced around the room and saw shock from those who could not process it, and grief from those who realised. 

“He’s gone,” Combeferre quietly added. 

“Is there any information on the guy who did it?”

Both Combeferre and Courfeyrac looked towards the voice, and noticed that it was Bahorel. He was a mix of both grief and anger. Bahorel may have sided against Enjolras last night, however for their entire friendship, he had made sure that Enjolras was okay. He always knew that Enjolras was safe. 

Courfeyrac assumed that Bahorel must be blaming himself. In fact, they all probably were. 

“No, they haven’t got any information yet, given that it happened less than 12 hours ago. But, when Javert gets back to us, I’ll notify everyone immediately.”

That seemed to appease them a little, though everyone still looked hollow inside; none more so than Grantaire. 

Grantaire and Enjolras had been stuck in a strange Twilight-Zone relationship for the past few months. It seemed obvious that they wanted to be together, but were completely unsure of how to proceed. It struck Courfeyrac like a blow that that would never be able to happen. 

Without even thinking, Courfeyrac crossed the room and pulled Grantaire up into a tight embrace. It took less than a second for Grantaire to return the hug. They had both lost an important person. The triumvirate had lost a leg, but Grantaire had lost his life. He had been so tightly bound to Enjolras, that one without the other simply felt wrong. 

Combeferre joined them a few moments later, followed by every other ami. 

They ended up in a large group hug and it was in that moment that Courfeyrac realised-

Maybe they would be okay after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, that’s that !
> 
> lemme know if you want a fourth and/or fifth part ?
> 
> if so, what do you want them to be about ?
> 
> but yeah, thank you so much for reading !
> 
> -el <3

**Author's Note:**

> like it ? love it ? hate it ? im just glad you read it !
> 
> that’s my new catchphrase if you hadn’t noticed lol
> 
> so im writing this super sad fic but im looping “Les Champs-Élysées” 
> 
> way to set the mood lmao
> 
> but yeah ! your comments make me smile and smiling is nice now 
> 
> (guess who got their braces off !)
> 
> so yeah !! i love you all 
> 
> -el <3


End file.
